By Your Doorstep
by KitKatt20
Summary: Sometimes it only takes a father's encouragement to help get you through a hard time. Major spoilers for Season 4 finale, Mr. Yin Presents.


By Your Doorstep

It was raining.

Shawn Spencer wasn't aware of much else besides the fact that at that exact moment, the heavens decided to open up and pour down on him in his already soaked clothes. He found it appropriate that the weather seemed to reflect his mood at the moment. The towel around his shoulders steadily grew heavier as it absorbed the water, though he still didn't move from his spot on the pier. The events of this night… hell, even this day, were finally starting to catch up with him.

Everything that happened today was his fault. He should've seen it coming. For once in his whole act of playing a psychic, he really wished he was one. Just for a day. He could've stopped all these things from happening. Ever since he got that phone call, things started falling like dominoes, and there was no way he could stop them.

Yin was gone, and who knows when he was going to come back again.

Mary was dead, and he still wasn't sure how to take that news, even though it happened right in front of him.

Abigail had moved on, despite his feeble attempt to make her stay.

And Juliet… he couldn't even begin to fathom the horror she went through. The horror _he_ put her through.

All the cases he solved didn't seem to be as important to him now as they used to be. Sure, he caught a couple bad guys here and there. It didn't change the fact that the first day in the station, in that interrogation room with Lassiter, he made a decision that would ultimately affect everyone he cared about. It all started when he put his hand to his head and spewed that nonsense to the police. And for what? To escape a night in lockup?

He'd gladly give it all up to prevent everything that happened tonight.

The loss of an innocent.

A relationship.

A friend.

He, himself, always had trouble playing the scapegoat in any situation. He couldn't escape the truth this time, though. It sat plain as day, right in front of him. So he'll shoulder the blame for it. He'd quit the Psych business, travel the country again. Yin wouldn't be able to target anyone that way. They would be safe as long as he wasn't around.

He had to grow up.

Then, he was suddenly aware of a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the face of his father, dripping wet from the pouring rain. He had one of those concerned looks, similar to when he had tried to convince Shawn to leave the Yang case. It was one of those expressions that said so much about his feelings that he didn't even have to say words.

"Come on, kid," his father said in a surprisingly soft voice. "You're going to catch a cold."

Shawn supposed he should actually be grateful for being aloud to have this time alone. Any other parent would've been swarming over their child after going through such an ordeal. Not Henry. Even he knew that his son dealt with things in a different way. For someone with an eidetic memory, he always had the habit of resolving his issues through his mental processes, just like his cases. And even though much of his mental processes over the last hour have consisted largely of guilt and blame, he appreciated his dad for giving him the opportunity to think things over.

He blinked for a moment, as if just realizing exactly where he was, and then nodded. He got up slowly; lifting his head like it was the heaviest thing in the world. Henry stood beside him, patient, though keeping a hand behind his back in that oddly comforting way. Together, they made their way back to the truck, which was still sitting at the end of the pier. Some stray cops were still investigating the scene, but there wasn't much else they could do. Yin was already gone.

The door was opened for him and he hopped in, settling down on the seat and suddenly realizing how cold he really was. He tried to suppress several shivers as his father made his way over to the other side of the truck and getting into the driver's seat. After closing the door, he reached into the back, and pulled out a small quilt before handing it to him. Shawn recognized it was one of his mother's making and happily accepted it, letting it wrap around him as if his mother was really there, giving him a comforting hug. He knew it sounded rather childish, but some instincts were hard to get over.

Henry took out his keys and put them into the ignition, but didn't turn on the engine. Instead, he paused, resting his hands on the steering wheel as both father and son stared out the windshield at that empty pier, clouded by the pouring rain. They were silent for what seemed like a long time, neither of them having the courage to start talking. The rain looked like it would never let up.

"It's not your fault, Shawn."

There it was.

Shawn just grunted. He knew the conversation would start out this way, and even though it wasn't an argument, he reviled it all the same. He lowered himself deeper into the seat and pulled the quilt over him, as if that would shield him from his father's awkward reassurance and commentary.

"I know what you're thinking. You're planning on running away again, aren't you?"

Great. Take it to Henry to be a mind reader in this type of situation. He turned to look out the side window in attempt to ignore his father, but he could still feel his gaze burning holes into his back. His question was phrased more like a statement than an inquiry, so he might as well not deny it. He knew if he kept up the silence he would just make him irritated, and he really didn't want another shouting contest on top of the heart-to-heart chat.

"So what if I am?" he admitted, a little surprised at how quiet his voice was and unable to keep the hint of irritation out of it.

Henry was quick to respond, as if he knew that was what he was going to say all along. "I'm going to say it again, and you know how much I hate repeating myself. This. Was. Not. Your. Fault." Each word was pronounced with shocking clarity as Henry tried to drill that fact into his sons mind. He knew that guilty look anywhere, and knew without a doubt that Shawn was blaming himself for all that has happened. He couldn't lose his son again to some misplaced thought about saving everyone the trouble and just retreating to some remote place somewhere in the country.

Three years ago, he would've let Shawn leave.

Three years ago, he even suggested that he should quit.

Three years ago, they didn't have the same relationship as they did now.

In the years since then, he'd seen his son almost become the cop he always wanted him to be. It was definitely not the way he imagined it, but he couldn't help that sense of pride that surged through him every time he saw Shawn on the front page of the newspaper.

He didn't have a gun.

He didn't have a badge.

And it turns out, he didn't need them at all, because Shawn was using the one instrument he had taught him to use in all those years of his childhood.

His mind.

Now, he was going to try his hardest to keep Shawn from making what was probably the dumbest decision of his career. Because, even if he thought his idea for the Psych business brought about all this mess, he knew deep down that his son loved his job, and he wasn't making that choice lightly. All he had to do was convince him of it.

"Of course it's my fault. Did you not see what happened today, dad? That sociopath targeted _me_, and he used the people I care about to do it. Weren't you the one who told me to get off this case when it started, anyway?"

"Yes, but you proved me wrong. You caught a dangerous serial killer and put her behind bars. I think you're discrediting yourself more than you should be," Henry said. When he only received a forlorn expression as a response, he continued. "Sometimes being the hero isn't all it's cracked up to be, kid."

"Yeah? And what if I don't want to be the hero? Being the hero is what got me into the mess in the first place," he shot back, unable to keep away the venom that now seeped into his voice. It was true, though. If he wasn't so good at solving crimes, Yang wouldn't have targeted him in the first place. He'd happily have scrapped some of his more high-profile case victories if it meant staying off the psychopath's radar.

"No, it wasn't. You did your job. You caught the murderers, thieves and conmen, just like any other cop would do. Just because one woman's mind was warped enough to choose you for her sick games, doesn't mean you did anything wrong."

"You don't get it, dad! I never wanted to be a detective in the first place! This whole 'psychic' thing was thought up on a spur-of-the-moment basis. Everything after that was just my stupid decision to run with it. Everyone else would've been just fine if I had just gone on my merry way!"

"I can think of a couple dozen people who would think otherwise."

Shawn's silence in response to that statement only pushed Henry to continue speaking.

"If it weren't for you, a woman would've been wrongfully accused for murdering a weatherman. A certain museum would lack a dinosaur discovery. Lassiter could be in jail for the murder of a criminal. And if it weren't for you, a serial killer could still be out killing had she not been caught earlier," Henry said, listing cases he had only been personally present for, but knew there were dozens of others that wouldn't have been solved if he hadn't worked them. He really hoped Shawn was getting the gist of what he was saying, because all the reassurance and positive reinforcement were starting to weigh in on him. He definitely wasn't used to this kind of chat with his son.

"Yin got away. It isn't over," replied Shawn feebly, pointing out Henry's last statement and reminding him that a serial killer was still on the loose.

"Yes, and running away won't solve that problem, will it? I thought you would've wanted to catch the son of a bitch that did this to you."

More silence. Henry wasn't sure whether he should be worried or relieved about his son's lack of retorts or arguments at this stage of the conversation. Hell, he was even surprised that it hadn't escalated into an argument like he thought it would. Then again, Shawn looked utterly drained in the seat beside him and just lacked the spirit to have an all-out I'm-right-and-you're-wrong exchange.

Shawn leaned forward in his seat, letting the quilt roll off of him as he sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his index fingers, an action Henry had never seen him do, even in the worst of situations. What came out of his son's mouth next shocked him to the core.

"Dad… I-.. I'm not sure I'll be able to do this all over again…" Shawn muttered in such a low tone that Henry could barely hear him. What would he do when Yin came back? Who would be targeted next? That was the fact that scared him most of all, and why he wanted to flee in the first place. The unpredictability of what was to come, and how he couldn't control what would happen. And worst of all, he was looking to his father for comfort. What the hell kind of alternate universe had he landed in? The hug on the pier had been obligatory. They had just escaped a life-or-death situation; any family member would want to express their feeling in that type of situation.

So, when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder and pull him close, he was astounded when it was his father who ended up giving him the half-hug he had been waiting for. He'd never admit it aloud, but it actually did make him feel better, despite its awkwardness.

"We'll be expecting him this time. There's no reason for you to shoulder this alone, Shawn."

Shawn nodded slowly and pulled back a little bit to look at his father, until something was pushed into his hand. He looked down and his eyes narrowed as he saw that it was his dad's pocket knife. Despite it being bigger, he couldn't help that it still felt familiar in his grasp. He glanced back up at the seasoned cop, a confused expression on his face.

"Keep it," was all he said.

"But… why?"

Henry sighed, leaning back against the seat and looking out at the pier again. "You've grown, Shawn. Your reaction to these events is proof of that. I don't need it anymore, but you might."

Shawn wasn't sure what to say. His father always carried his pocket knife with him; it was going to be odd seeing him without it. This was a huge deal for Henry to do something like this. He knew that he always thought of him as someone to be babysat and looked after, that's why he always had Gus with him. But now it was like he was licensed to make his own decisions. His fingers wrapped tightly around the instrument that helped save Abigail's life.

"Thanks, dad," he croaked out.

Henry nodded in response, ruffling the top of his son's matted hair and moving back to the driver's seat. That pretty much signaled the end of the heart-to-heart, and he had to say, it didn't turn out like he was expecting it was. He turned on the engine, the much sought-after heater air beginning to blow in his face. He began to pull out of the parking lot and head for his own house, having the parental feeling that Shawn didn't want to sleep alone tonight.

"Um, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Could we, uh, make a stop first?"

"Where to?"

Shawn gave him the directions to the destination, but he had a feeling his father would've known where to go if he had known the way to the establishment in the first place. He just wanted to check. To make sure she was okay.

As they pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, they saw a familiar figure exit the apartment in question and head towards one of the cars in the lot. He stopped when he saw the familiar red truck, but didn't approach them. Detective Lassiter looked worn and tired. His clothes were rumpled and he definitely needed a starbucks or twelve hours of sleep just to get the bags out from under his eyes.

Lassiter obviously recognized them in the truck and his face hardened. He pointed toward the apartment and mouthed one word. Shawn could tell what he was trying to say.

_Get in there. NOW._

He nodded to tell the detective that he understood and Lassiter headed back toward his vehicle, starting the car and then leaving, but not without sending the building another worried glance. Shawn opened the door to the truck and turned to look at his father.

"I'll be waiting," Henry assured him.

"I know you will," his son replied with a small grin, and closed the door, starting to head up the steps to Juliet's apartment.

He wasn't sure what he was going to say.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do.

All he knew is that he wanted to see a certain blond detective. The light hum of a red truck's engine seemed to only encourage him. He raised his hand in front of the door.

And knocked.


End file.
